To Close for Comfort
by Katrina Birch
Summary: Luna and Neville in a modern day school. Not very magical. Luna wanting Neville without Neville realizing.  ONESHOT!


**I'm** not the pretty dancer with perfect hair. I'm not the sport fanatic with killer legs. I'm not the school Captain with heaps of friends and a perfect reputation. I'm not a posse leader with heaps of followers/slaves. I'm just me. It's no wonder that Eli doesn't look at me like that. It doesn't shock me that every day he tells me about all of the wonderful times he has with those pretty dancers and sport fanatics. It doesn't surprise me that every day when I keep on falling onto those dark grey eyes that his thoughts are on the girl next door. Which sucks, but what can you do when you're seventeen and in love already. It isn't me, not little old Luna. Never has been, never will be.

"Emma, have you even been listening to what I've been saying?" Neville asked while clicking his fingers in front of my face.

"Yes, of course I've been listening! Most interesting conversation I've ever had" I answered back with as must enthusiasm possible.

"What was I talking about then?" He asked with interest. Agh. Bugger. "Eggs" I guessed staring past his shoulders at the bright orange lockers that covered the hallways from classroom to classroom.

"Not even close" he chuckled lightly, rolling those lovely eyes into the back of his head. "Sorry for dozing off, what were you talking about then?" I asked a little bit over eagerly.

"The dance this weekend" It was now my turn to roll my eyes. So very dull compared to the magnificent Neville's. Wow. I really sound like a slave now. Never mind that.

"Neville, you know perfectly well that I don't do dance's. I don't dance, you should know that by now" I pointed out quite stubbornly. "Come on Luna! You know that you're a great dancer" My reply was a snort, and I walked off without a thought to it.

"Come one! You may not think it but you're really good! And you should ask someone! I know heaps of boys that want to ask you" I stopped dead in my tracks. He's lying, I know he's lying, he's always lying. There's no one that has a crush on my let alone wanting to ask me to the dance. I wish I hadn't stopped. I wish I had kept on walking, because now that I've stopped, he thinks that he has my attention.

"Yep Luna lots of boys. To name some, George Fredrickson, Ianto Youth, and Harry Grit" Just to let you know they were ALL previous crushes of mine. But he knew that and I knew that he knew that and so I'm not falling for it. So I kept on walking without a word.

"Oh COME ON LUNA!" He said practically yelled throughout the corridors, running in circles around me. I stopped, stood up straight, put my head on a strange angle and slowly turned it towards him. Just like the horror movies that everyone knows he hates.

"Stop it, stop it, stop it Luna! I'm serious!" He begged.

Oh I love making him squirm. Then I did this weird thing that Barty Crouch Jr. did in 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire'. That little tongue thing. Oh god that freaks him out. He's the swimming captain and he's the one freaking out over me doing a few little head things. He's really buff and everything so it's really funny watching people stare at him, him being oblivious to the fact that they are staring, and them seeing him make little noises that a five year old girl would make if a bug was less than 10cm from her face.

Of course I have a weak spot as well. But only my mum and Neville know that. No one else. And don't you think that I'll tell you so soon. I hardly know you! You just wanted to read about a story with teenage dilemma. Well bad luck. Because only Neville and my mum no that. So I guess you'll find out later.

"LLLuuunnnnnaaaaa" He whined. The bell rang. "In the nick of time" I mumbled under my breath.

"WHAT? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY YOUNG LADY?" Neville grabbed hold of my shoulder and pulled me around. Not hurting or anything. It's just this kind of joke we do.

"Sir, I really must be getting to class! I'm going to be late Sir" In my sickly sweet pommy voice. Even it made me want to vomit. All high pitched and everything. Sounding just like the 'Queen Bee' in our grade. Precious Merissa McCarthy. Blonde hair streaming down her back and legs of a sport fanatic, when she only does _precious_ cheerleading! IT ISN'T EVEN A SPORT! Anyway, she has a dreadful reputation. Everyone knows that she is a slag. She has slept with every boy in the school. Except for Eli. I think. She's proud of the fact that her parent are as rich as anything and that she has houses in every country. She has a posse of complete wanna-bees. Emily Goodwin, with bright hair that somehow represents fire. With blonde streaks appearing in the dark red colour. I swear she's had it died. What am I talking about? OF COURSE SHE'S HAD IT DIED! Luna, calm down.

Okay. Back to the story.

We walked off quite quickly to our next class, seeing as it was just lunch, but neither of us were hungry. Sure I have other friends but Neville insisted on talking to me. Anyway, our next class was Art. We've always done art together and in grade 12, it's really hard, but we both enjoy it. Our topic is 'Perspective and Our World'.

I'm making a book about our world and all of the crisis in it. Either personal crisis or global crisis. I think I'll focus on the personal crisis. I'm not sure. When we finally get to the Art Room I notice a few changes. Our teacher, Mrs. Pickleberry walks into the room explaining how today we will _not _be working on the preferred topic (that being the project on self-conflict or personal crisis), but we will be working on the human mind and how it can shape different situations out of different happenings.

Great.

Another story on how she had a divorce and how that divorce brought out her creative side which lead her to become one of the best artists in history. Another Da Vinci is _exactly _what we need.

I sit down, leaving my pencil case and notebook at my desk, and made my way, as slow as possible, to the teacher. Wanting to whine at her about how over-rated all of her stories are, and how we really don't want to hear about her sex life with the new principle. But I kept my mouth shut. I don't think that anyone in our class gets any work done in these sessions when she doesn't stop talking about her sex life and how the lesson that is usually fun, turns into a depression wasteland.


End file.
